


sunshine and serendipity

by shamelesstoaster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Eventual Smut, F/M, Farmtale - Freeform, Flower Language, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Mutual Pining, NO FONTCEST, No Love Triangle, Oblivious, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, but not really bc this isn’t going to be that long, maybe?? - Freeform, more tags to come, sans and Papyrus retired to the countryside, sending messages with flowers, they’ve known each other for a while though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelesstoaster/pseuds/shamelesstoaster
Summary: Sans and Papyrus have moved from the busy city to a farm in the countryside. Peace, quiet, hard work, sunshine, and the adorable human they meet every weekend at the markets... what more could they want?(Farmtale Au with a reader romance!)





	1. in the cool of the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Heya Hettie, this one’s for you. And me too, let’s be real it’s complete self-gratification and we all know it ;)

The air was always crisp and cool at this time of the morning, and the colours of the orchard and gardens muted, faded. It was like stepping into another world when Papyrus walked out of the farmhouse, breathing clouds of steam and sipping his peppermint tea. A world where everything held its breath as it waited for the sun to peek over the horizon, birdsong and rustling leaves the only sounds for miles.

The chill on his bones was invigorating, and the tall skeleton monster bounced on the spot as he surveyed the quiet world that was all his. Well, his and his older brother’s. But Sans was asleep in bed still, and wouldn’t rise till the sun was well and truly up, so this moment, this quiet, dim world, was all his right now.

Moving to the countryside had been the most rewarding decision the brothers had made up on the surface. A few years in the city while the world figured out what to do with the monsters who had emerged from the mountain, limited to a few certain places until their rights and safety was decided on, and then they were free to live where they pleased. The city had been exciting and fast-paced and Papyrus had enjoyed being close to everything they needed, socialising with humans and monsters of all types, but soon enough the call of something calmer, something that involved hard work and peace and quiet, was too loud to resist.

Sans seemed to be settling in nicely. The slow life suited him perfectly, and while he was still his sleepy, lazy self that Papyrus knew and loved, he was an asset on their productive little farm. Methodical and mechanically-inclined, their machines- and the machines of the people who lived around them- had never been cleaner or smoother after Sans was finished with them. And the farm animals adored him, his unthreatening demeanour making him a favourite among the chickens and their one well-loved cow.

Leaving his mug on the steps to collect later, Papyrus headed in the direction of said cow’s shed, already hearing her protests of hunger and full udders. His morning would be full of feeding, milking, collecting the fruits and vegetables that were ripe for harvesting, and finally cooking breakfast for himself and his brother before retreating to the attic to paint. This was something he never really had time or room for in the city. Now, with so much time on his hands and a lovely spacious farmhouse to take advantage of, Papyrus could throw himself into his art as much as he liked. It kept his hands and mind busy, but it was relaxing all the same, creating beautiful pictures of the sunrise, sunset, landscapes from the Underground from memory, or anything else that took his fancy.

Sans rose late in the morning to the smell of coffee and fried eggs and tomatoes with herbs. Every morning his eggs were made a different way and his breakfast was piping hot, waiting for him. His brother was ever attentive and it was wonderful, living so comfortably like this. Later he would definitely be pulling his weight around the farm to make up for it, but for now, he enjoyed his food and glanced through the newspaper, noting the snippets of news from the city that let him know how their friends at the embassy of monsterkind were fairing. Papyrus had worked as ambassador between the two races for a while, but as his position as gloried mascot eventually became unsatisfying, they had chosen to withdraw to a more comfortable, slow-paced life. They were still friends with the human representative, Frisk, who by now was in their mid teens and sent them monthly letters regaling them with tales of teenage angst and city life between their official duties. Most of their close friends had high positions in the city and kept in touch, if sparingly sometimes, and so the brothers were able to keep up to date with the goings on that concerned them.

All in all, things were good. Sans eventually got to work, sorting and cleaning and packing the produce that Papyrus had brought in that morning, getting everything ready to be sold at the market. Though the gold that they had brought up with them was worth a whole lot above ground, earning money and providing food for their close-knit community was rewarding. And it was their main social activity now, living so far from other people and usually minding their own business on their own farm for most of the week. The market took up their weekend with buying and selling and trading, enjoying the company of like-minded monsters and humans alike before retreating to their little world again. And one particular human made the experience something to look forward to.

You were a flower seller- a florist, you had insisted primly, with the qualifications and experience to back it up. Once a city-dweller, now living in your own little paradise, just like the skeletons. You brought a truckload of flowers and crates of honey to the market every weekend without fail, and were delighted to trade your goods for theirs. Sans always knew when you were around, the buzzing of bees and the scent of flowers always heralding your presence. You were the friendliest human he had met, and the first to offer friendship when you had met them years ago. After knowing each other for so long he had picked up of your little quirks, like the way you skipped to their stall with you hands behind your back and your wide, welcoming grin, or the flower you tucked into both his and Papyrus’ pockets before they left, every weekend without fail. It was tradition now to wait for your gift before leaving. It left with him a stupid grin that was hard to get rid of- even now, thinking about your cute face and your cute mannerisms and you, just cute cute cute! He kicked the last crate of apples next to the others with a chuckle and a headshake, brushing down his flannel shirt. He was being silly, but damn if he wasn’t excited to go to market again tomorrow.

When Papyrus would inevitably emerge from the attic smudged with paint and stretching his aching joints, he would also inevitably find Sans snoozing in the chicken coop with a basket of eggs, their resident rooster perched on his ribcage to inspect the sleeping invader. He would be dragged back to the house with a half-assed, loving lecture about napping and laziness that he could recite along with his brother, and their day would go on, Sans judging and praising today’s artwork and running through their plans and preparations for the weekend. And the brothers’ lives would always go on in such a relaxed, comfortable manner, for all of eternity if they had any say in it.


	2. bad habit I know, but I’m needing you right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of some very good friends...

The market is bustling with farmers and vendors when you arrive, and you smile and wave to those friendly enough to greet you as you pull into your usual spot. The gates aren’t open to the public yet, but the place is jumping as everyone rushes to arrange their stalls, tents, or various areas where they sell or trade their various goods. You get straight to work unloading your crates of flowers and honey jars in your designated spot, glancing over periodically to check if your friends have arrived yet.

You had been coming here for years now, but there were no humans or monsters who fascinated you more than the two skeletons who sold their produce across the walkway from you. Their fruits and vegetables were bigger and tastier than everyone else’s, in your humble opinion. Whether that was because of the mutually beneficial arrangement the three of you had, or because of some mysterious magic they casted on the produce, you weren’t sure. But either way they were good farmers, and good friends, and good guys in general. 

You had their share of the trade ready and waiting in the back of your truck- a crate of honey jars and a jug of apple cider, plus a bouquet of fresh flowers. The cider was made on the apples they had given you a few weeks ago, as well as honey and spices to give it the zing Sans especially seemed to love. The skeletons had tried the drink at the annual barn dance when you had brought it one year, and begged you for more. Now you made it just for them, since they were you most enthusiastic customers. Not that you would tell them that.

A smile tugged at your lips as you ran your fingertips over a few petals in your crate, adjusting everything to look pretty as you tried to pretend you weren’t eagerly waiting for the boys to arrive. While your feelings were in no way a mystery to you, it wasn’t something you wanted the entire community to know about. Even if you had started dressing nicer and nicer as time went on... or leaving them secret messages that only you understood. 

It had started so innocently. A few yellow roses, half-opened and a little wilted that hadn’t sold that weekend, tucked into your new friends’ pockets as a parting gift. Yellow roses meant friendship and you thought it was very fitting, so you continued to give them the little gifts every weekend after that. They seemed bemused but accepting, wide toothy smiles and friendly banter their usual responses. 

Of course, as you got to know them, your feelings changed and so did your flowers. Over the few years now, you came to know their little quirks and routines for their market visits. Sans was sleepy and slow, but still hardworking, and told the silliest puns. The amount of flower and honey jokes you had heard from him was criminal, and you were sure you had heard them all by now. They still made you laugh, though. He was so relaxing to talk to, and good with his hands- that wasn’t an experienced dirty joke, mores the pity, but an observation of his mechanical prowess. He had fixed your truck many times, a beautiful Ford F100 that had been left to you by your grandfather and had been getting worse for wear before you let Sans under the hood. Now it ran like a dream. 

As opposite to his brother as he could get, Papyrus was tall and bright and energetic, loud voiced and excited about pretty much everything. You would never think he was the younger brother, with the way he lectured Sans and groaned at his jokes as if he was much too mature for such things, when you knew very well now that he enjoyed a good pun or two himself. He was sun-bleached and freckled, with ‘tan lines’ on his strong, thick bones from not wearing a shirt in the sun. He often came to market in only his overalls and big red boots, and you would be lying if the glimpses of bone weren’t nice to look at.

In fact, both skeleton boys were quite good-looking. Human standards didn’t really work in this situation, but their features were pleasant and expressive and had grown on you over time, and you had really come to like hanging out with them. So, with Victorian Floriography book in hand, you had upgraded their weekly yellow roses to white camellias, a move easily explained away but that had secret meaning for you. Soon enough, camellias were replaced by gardenias, and today you were ready to change it up again. You had ordered the seeds specially and had been nursing the flowers carefully in your greenhouse, a surprising amount of effort to go to for a personal message that only you understand, but there was a thrill that came with being so forward with your feelings. Even if no one else understood, you did. 

It’s all you can do not to spin around and jump up and down waving when you hear their truck pull up nearby. Your heart does the energetic moves for you, fluttering and dancing wildly in your chest and prompting a shy grin as you peer over at the two guys who are climbing down from their gleaming vehicle. Looks like Sans had been tinkering around again, if those shiny trimmings are anything to go by, and the low purr where there’s usually a growling engine. You glance down quickly at your outfit- pastels and denim were always your go-to, and your peachy button-up, denim skirt and soft white smock are perfectly respectable. It’s already got smudges of dirt, but that’s the nature of working with nature, isn’t it?

They call your name, and you look over with a smile, waving happily as Papyrus sets down a heavy-looking crate and comes over to you, brushing his hands off and offering one to you. His skeletal hand is rough and calloused, even though you know he wears gloves, and you give it a firm shake and grin up at him. Pleasantries are exchanged, Sans comes over, and you exchange news about your week. It’s all you can do to pay attention to what they’re both saying without looking like you’re checking them out. No matter how many times you see them, their novelty hasn’t worn off, and you have to admit to yourself that they’re both very good looking. Papyrus has a few new freckles seen you’ve last seen him, pale orange and scattered over his shoulders and cheekbones, giving him a charming, boyish look. Sans looks like he just rolled out of bed, as usual, his flannel buttons tastefully undone and showing off a generous amount of collarbone. You can’t tell if he genuinely does not care about his appearance or if it’s deliberate sloppiness, like a messy bun that takes ten tries to get right. Neither answer would surprise you.

The day goes on pleasantly. The skeleton boys eventually head off to take care of their own produce as the markets start to open. Regular attendees of the markets and a few tourists flow through the stalls, touching and testing and trying out the various products available. The hustle and bustle reminds you of the city, and gives you a nostalgic vibe. You had enjoyed you city life, but it was just so expensive and you had eventually caved under your family’s requests to take on the farm left behind by your grandfather. Keeping a flower shop open in the city was a constant battle, but here you were free to grow and do what you wanted, and it was enough to make your life comfortable. Your regular customers were from the local hospital and nursing home and churches, and of course Valentine’s Day was a big deal, as well as the odd wedding or funeral. And your honey was a big hit, something you were especially proud of. 

Now as your crates of flowers disappear into the arms of your regulars, and the jovial conversations ebb and flow among those who stay to talk, you keep an eye on the objects of your secret affections. They always enjoy selling of their food for almost nothing, and you’re not sure how they manage to afford to live with what little they’re making. Regular customers exchange updates with them, leaving with crates and bags of fresh fruits and vegetables, and visitors flock to the monsters to chat and take photos, the novelty still alive and well despite monsters having been up here for years now. They accept all attention with friendly smiles, and Papyrus chats their collective ears off about what recipes would work perfectly with what was bought, while Sans waves and grins and tells jokes. For the small children who appear every now and then, he does magic tricks that leave them wide-eyed and giggling. Every interaction makes your heart melt and you smile grow bigger, and you can’t wait for the end of the day so that your usual fun can begin.

Daylight wanes and stalls start to pack up. What are left of your flowers are starting to wilt, and you tuck a few dropping blooms in your hair and distribute the rest to your fellow sellers. You’ve done well for today, all of your regulars were happy with their batches of flowers, and you honey is all gone. You pack up your truck and wait, rocking on your heels and humming a tune, until a blissfully familiar voice joins in right next to you.

“Lazybones, I’m literally a few steps away,” you tease Sans, turning to see him leaning against the truck. You hadn’t heard him wander over, which means he literally teleported a few metres over to you. It’s still crazy to you that he has that ability, but you’re never shocked by his sudden appearances. “You looked like you did well!”

“yeah, someone just up and bought our whole box of sweet potatoes in one go, so that was great.” The shorter skeleton grins his comfortable, friendly grin, and your heart flutters a little. “you ready for a drink? Bob’s packing up in ten.”

Bob’s coffee van is a staple at the market and he always keeps it open after everyone else is finished, just for the sellers. It’s been a tradition for a while now to go off and get a drink before you go home, and Sans likes to join you now and then. It’s a nice little moment for you to hang out and relax together before you go home. Papyrus waves to the two of you with a big smile as you wander off, and you’re tempted to ask him to join you, but at the same time you like having just a few moments alone with Sans. 

He keeps you entertained as you line up to order, and when you’re both cradling hot drinks and wandering back the long way, you can’t help but watch him as you sip your hot chocolate. Walking in silence as the evening breeze tickles your skin, you have to fight the urge to slip your hand into his, or lean on his shoulder- he’s only just shorter than you, and it’s adorable. His eyelights flick up to meet your gaze, and you grin and look away, fighting down a blush. “So are you coming tomorrow too?”

“yeah, only a half day though. we gotta shop for the week. running out of bread and coffee.” He sips his coffee, and you glance over in curiosity, always fascinated by the way food and drink disappeared when the skeletons consumed things. “you going for seeds again?”

“Yeah, I have an order to pick up in the next town. A few different types of daisies, and these roses that grow white and red together.” No one ever delivers to your farm, so the online orders you place have to be picked up. It’s usually a whole day affair and it really takes you out in your way, but you don’t really mind the traveling. But you’d much prefer to hang out with the guys at the market again. 

“oh, nice, is that for an event?”

“Nah, I just liked the colours.”

He hums and nods, waving to his brother as the circle you’ve been wandering through the market comes to an end back at your trucks. “need me to look at your truck before you take the big drive?”

“Well, I have been hearing a rattling,” you hedge, not wanting to make him do this for you again. He’s already popping the hood before you’re finished, and you stand back with a fond smile as Papyrus joins you. “Hey, big guy. You want your honey and stuff?”

He lights up and nods, hurrying back to grab the crate full of produce for you while you retrieve the honey, cider and flowers. The exchange is made, and you grab the carefully packed flowers for them with a racing heart. This is the moment you secretly declare your feelings again, with no expectation of reciprocation. Papyrus gingerly takes the bright flower, tucking it carefully into his overalls pocket. “Thank you, human! It’s beautiful!”

“You’re welcome! Now, if you want to keep that one for a few days, you gotta add lemon juice, sugar and a little bleach to the water, ok?” His admiration of the flower makes him look sweet- well. Sweeter than usual. You want to kiss him, but the flower is enough for now. 

“everything seems ok, I tightened a few bolts but the truck is as perfect as I left it last time.” Sans saunters over next to Papyrus and you quickly hand over his flower. Your fingertips brush, and you linger for a moment before stepping back, shoving your hands in your skirt pockets. His eyelights linger on you a little longer before dropping down to examine his gift. “oh, it’s pretty... trying out new seeds?” 

“Yeah, well, bulbs this time. Special order, just wanted to try them.” Your nervous fidgeting is drawing their interest, so you decide to head off, leaving them with your declarations of love. “You guys are definitely coming to the dance in a few weeks, right?”

“We never miss the Harvest Moon ball!” Papyrus exclaims, hands on his hips and grinning proudly. He looks so strong and perfect in the golden light of sunset. “I’ve bought the perfect shirt for it too!”

“I bet you’ll be the most dashing one there!” You coo, unable to help yourself. “I have my outfit all picked out! You’d better save some dances for me, both of you!”

They agree enthusiastically, and you part ways, sighing to yourself once you’re alone behind the wheel. The sky is pink and gold as your radio crackles to life, and you hum along with the crooning love song on your way back to your lonely little farm.

“Hate to say that I love you  
Hate to say that I need you  
Hate to say that I want you  
But I do...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some flower language!
> 
> ROSE Yellow - Joy, Friendship  
CAMELLIA White - You're Adorable  
GARDENIA - You're Lovely: Secret Love  
and finally  
DAFFODIL - Regard; Unrequited Love; You're the Only One; The Sun is Always Shining When I'm with You
> 
> Bonus: song is ‘Bad Habit’ by Ben Platt


	3. dream a little dream of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutual pining at midnight you say? Why yes of course!

You always brought back at least one item for self care purposes on your shopping trips. It was important to you to take breaks and enjoy little things, especially when the silence grew overwhelming. Living alone was nice, usually. But every so often you needed a treat.

This week you had brought back a bath bomb and some wine, along with your flower seeds, basic necessities and a treat for someone special. It was a universally acknowledged fact that your lovely friend Papyrus loved to cook, but not so well known that his favourite food, of all things, was dinosaur oatmeal. The little packages to candy eggs and oats weren’t anywhere to be found in the stores in your home town, so a special trip was needed if you were to acquire it. You’d seen it and thought of him, and so now it was sitting in your pantry awaiting your next market trip.

You were trying not to think too much about the boys, honestly. It was hard, when you were just the slightest bit lonely in your little farmhouse and your mind wanted to go back to the gorgeous skeletons you had been crushing on for ages. It was time for some indulgence to take your mind off them.

One lovely hot bath and a glass of rosé was the order of the day, and you relaxed with a book as the room steamed up. You were reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time, but the old-timey romance and the vision of Colin Firth in a billowing shirt eventually had you thinking about polite, good-mannered skeletons again. Imagine Papyrus in that shirt, or even Sans, though it would look funny on him... or both of them, falling into a perfectly-placed body of water and emerging with the fabric clinging to their bones... wow, this really was not helping you. The scene wasn’t even in the book. You had really been alone for far too long, hadn’t you...

When you’d finished your wine, you were a warm, wrinkled prune and the water was cool, you got out and dried off, finding it to be about midnight. Throwing on fresh PJs and wrapping your favourite fluffy robe around you, you wander into the kitchen and switch on the radio, fiddling a moment to find a station that plays slow, old music that suits your melancholy, slightly flustered mood. For a moment, you wished a bony hand would take yours and twirl you around as soft notes echo through your kitchen. 

Your eyes close as you start to sway, the tantalising vision of slow-dancing in the kitchen in the arms of someone you love while old romantic jazz songs play softly on the radio making your heart swell with longing. Would you spin into a broad chest, strong arms wrapping you up and holding you close... or wrap your arms around some shoulders that are only slightly lower than yours, resting your forehead against smooth bone... both idea were equally delightful. You were left with a mortified blush as you straightened up, grabbing some milk and chocolate and flicking the kettle on, humming along as Ella Fitzgerald sung your feelings into the night.

“Say nighty-night and kiss me  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me  
While I'm alone and blue as can be  
Dream a little dream of me...”

******

“Stars fading but I linger on dear  
Still craving your kiss  
I'm longing to linger till dawn dear  
Just saying this...”

Papyrus didn’t sleep much in general, but every so often he would end up watching the sun rise, despite his best efforts. Too many thoughts, too much magic, something like that... even though he worked hard in the day, some nights sleep just eluded him. He wasn’t that torn up about it, he knew sleep was essential for most people but this gave him even more time to do what he needed to do! Which tonight... was thoughtfully drinking tea while he stared at the flickering flame of a candle and listened to the radio.

Alright, so sometimes he was allowed to be lazy. He liked music and he liked candles and he liked tea... and lately he liked the circles his mind ran in, picturing a sunny face with a wide smile, freckles scattered over your nose and cheeks and neck. Your sweet voice calling his name cheerfully, never failing to perk him up whenever he arrived at the markets. He loved having a friend like you- moving to a new town with new people had been good, and he had a few more friends than he had been expecting, given his history.

What a shock, to find people who liked him and accepted him, even if it was only because they grew the best produce around and he gave wonderful cooking advice. But you... you always singled the both of them out, and you gave him your undivided attention when he talked. You gave them flowers! You entertained Sans and remembered just how he liked his cider... and the few times he brought his best paintings to the market, he wasn’t sure who bought them when he wasn’t looking, but he was observant enough to spy the suspicious looking tarp in the back of your truck. All in all, you were lovely. 

He glanced at the mug on the table that held the bright yellow flower you had given him. He had followed your instructions for keeping it alive, but it had been a while now and it was starting to droop. No matter, he had a plan for that. There was a book on the shelf that held all of the flowers you had given them over time, dried and pressed for remembrance. It was a little tradition Sans had started, unwilling to throw out their gifts, and thought he pretended to be cool, unsentimental Sans the skeleton, Papyrus knew his brother was extremely fond of you and held onto the flowers for sentimental reasons. It was quite sweet.

When he came back to the table with their book, Sans was sipping his own drink, coffee much too sweet to even rightly be called coffee anymore. Papyrus only raised a browbone as he set it down opposite his sleepy brother, opening it to a clean page and taking the daffodil out of its water to lay it across the page. Sans’ joined it there a moment later, two bright flowers side by side. The book closed over them, and others placed on top to add pressure. The brother glanced up at each other with contented smiles, and Sans gave him a nod before disappearing in front of his eyes. Left alone, Papyrus sighed and sipped his tea contemplatively, imagining the brightness of your eyes as he gazed into the candlelight. 

And Sans lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you were doing the same thing as the soft notes of jazz music wafted up to his room from the kitchen.

“Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you  
Gotta keep dreaming leave all worries behind you  
But in your dreams whatever they be  
You gotta make me a promise, promise to me  
You'll dream, dream a little of me...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok now I will definitely get into more actual plot just let me enjoy my fluff ok


	4. he loves a strong girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re independent and don’t need no body... except when it comes to moving your beehives. Sans is a great help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically an infodump of things I learned how to do when I was beekeeping the other day. With some fun and fluff.

It was an accepted fact that you were content and capable at running your little farm all by yourself. After many years in your little corner of the country, growing your flowers and raising your bees, you had a good routine going. This time of year, you moved your hives into a little shed for shelter, knowing that eventually the storms would come and batter the country with wind and rain. You battened down your greenhouse and paid special attention to the flowers that needed the most sun, and you made sure your bees had enough honey to last the weeks that they would probably be stuck inside. And you made sure you had food to last the rainy days. This was when the house would smell of cinnamon and vanilla, because while you were quiet adept at the living alone thing, your kitchen skills were limited to baking and the most simple meals. So the cookie jars filled, and your bulk rice, pasta, herbs and the good eggs from the skeleton boys’ farm were stacked by the stove with you pots and pans. Your tastes were simple, but they did you well.

Mornings of wandering your greenhouse with a misting bottle, breathing in the smell of flowers and dirt, checking the plants for illness or drooping and treating the ones that needed it... your outside gardens were faring well too, for now, and you would try to keep that going through the storms. The daffodils were waving merrily up at you as you passed, and you smiled as they reminded you of the lovely boys that had your heart aflutter. You’d have to cut a few for the weekend, soon... their weekly secret confessions awaited. One day, perhaps you would let them in on the meaning.

You had crates ready for the bouquets you would cut for the market, lists of needed flowers for your regular customers pinned next to them in case you forgot. After lunch, you usually did the bees. It was hot work, in that triple-layered suit, and it took a while, but you wouldn’t give this up for the world. Your bees were your life now. They knew everything about you- of course you told them all about your life, there were no other living things on the farm to talk to. Gentle creatures they were, especially after you had let a particular rambunctious queen leave. Whatever misconceptions you had heard about bees didn’t apply to your happy little hives. You barely even needed to use smoke anymore, and the less bees that got unfortunately squashed in the act of changing frames and moving things around, the calmer they were. 

Three hives out of your fifteen were your usual daily routine. Methodically shifting boxes, opening things up and checking the frames, cleaning out excess wax and emptying the bug trays underneath. Making more room for eggs if it was needed, taking the frames with harvestable honey and leaving them enough for themselves, whispering your secrets to the bees that buzzed inquisitively around your hat as you took care of their homes. It was calming work, even though it was quite heavy and physical, and it took up most of your afternoon. By the time you were finished, you were a sweaty mess and your back was hurting from the heavy lifting, but you had your honey and the bees were happy, and you pushed your wheelbarrow of tools back to where they belonged and took a break before going through the process of getting out the honey. 

Your days were long and full of hard work, and sometimes you were tempted to just sleep in and take the day off. But you liked what you did, and it made you a living. It made you feel accomplished when you finally stomped inside in your big beekeeping boots, the light outside dimming and cicadas starting to sing. Now was time to cook a simple meal, probably rice and eggs again with splash of soy sauce- cheap and filling and tasty, something you had discovered in the city when you were barely able to afford to live. Old habits died hard. 

But tonight you weren’t finished yet. You needed help moving your hives, since you didn’t want to throw your back out again, and the place to find strong arms was in town, at the only little pub for miles. You might as well make a night of it, you suppose, and you change into something that’s a little less smudged with dirt and sticky with honey and hop in your truck, eyeing the horizon as heavy clouds gather on the edges of the sunset. Papyrus could probably do this sky so much justice, you muse on your way into town. Your walls are covered in sunsets and shadowy countryside, and many more are stacked up, but what’s one more? You want to support your friend.

Sauntering into the pub with your hands in your skirt pockets, fiddling with your keys and coins and nodding to the customers that smile and tip their hats at you, you make your way to be bar and order a large plate of fries with a serious helping of ketchup and aioli. Sauce is expensive and you don’t come by it often so you make the most of things like this. Gazing around the establishment and trying to pick out someone both strong and friendly enough, you almost don’t notice when an older fella slides next to you. Until he’s uncomfortably close, that is.

“Not often we see you in here, lassie.” His voice slurs a little, and you suppress a sigh of annoyance as you turn to him, frowning. “Now now, no need for the cheeky look, only being friendly-like.” 

“Yes, it’s good to see you, sir.” You’re already edging away, tossing a few fries in your mouth as you continue your search for non-creepy able-bodied people. There’s a lady in the corner playing poker with her wife and brother- she has the biggest biceps you’ve ever seen on such a lithe frame, but she’d have to, living on that ranch with that big family. Maybe she’d be able to help. There’s also the boys at the jukebox, taking turns at using their immense strength to try and punch some life into the old machine. Dumb, but strong and probably nicer than the old dude currently breathing down your neck again. “Oh my god, what do you want? I’m not sharing my fries.”

“I’ve had me dinner, miss, now I’m just lookin for my dessert.” He gives an exaggerated wink, and you feeling your stomach churn with distaste before he takes it upon himself to connect the dots for you. ”If you get my drift.” 

The hand slowly creeping up your leg is slapped away without hesitation, and you step back, brushing down your clothes with a murderous scowl. “It’s been a hell of a day, and I didn’t think I’d be in the mood to kick anyone’s ass tonight, but I swear if you touch me in any way again I will surprise myself and you. And not in a nice way, dickhead.” Your voice rises wth every word, and when you’re finished you know without looking that you’ve gathered everyone’s eyes on you. The bartender gives the old man a quick smack off the bar, confiscating his glass, and telling him to leave. You give them a grateful smile and go back to your fries, heart pounding and a little too anxious to ask around for help now. 

There suddenly a presence by your side, and you’re ready to mouth off at the creep again before your angry words die at the sight of a familiar face. “Sans!” You grin, feeling relief spread through your chest as the skeleton wiggles in fingers in greeting. “Hey, man, what’s cookin?”

“not you, obviously.” He snags a fry off your plate and drowns it in ketchup, expression relaxed and lazy and utterly gorgeous. Well. Beauty, beholder, all that. 

“Yeah, I have an errand to run and figured I’d do dinner while I’m out. What about you- I though Papyrus cooks every night?”

“he did, and it was great. I just like to come out and... reminisce.” He gestured around, looking a little sheepish. “this place reminds me of my favourite monster bar in the city. I was kinda missing it.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

And so you listened to him regale you of tales about a warm, friendly bar, where the jukebox never worked and the food was saturated in grease and he kept a tab open for years before the barrier broke. Of the relocation to the surface and the fun new atmosphere and how it was one of the only things he missed about not being out there anymore. That led onto a talk about his friends, and a letter he had just gotten from ambassador Frisk, and pretty soon your fries were gone and your sides hurt from laughing. Sans was the most entertaining person you had ever spoken to, and you felt a little bit of your adoring heart melt every time he told a stupid pun or looked at you with those crinkled sockets and wide grin. 

“anyway, I’m glad to have caught that little scene from before.” He chuckled, dragging a finger idly through your leftover ketchup and licking it off, much to your disgust and fascination. “you ain’t scared of nothin and it’s so cool.”

That had you blushing, and blustering as you tried to hide how much a compliment from your crush affected you. “Oh, yeah, I was ready to drag that old dude, no joke. Nearest hospital is an hour away and I guarantee you he wouldn’t have made it there in one piece.”

“I have no doubt- I would’ve paid to see it, too.” He laughs, leaning back on the bar and glancing around the place, waving to a few people who caught his eye. “so, what errands are you running at 9pm in the town pub?”

“Oh- oh I forgot I was going to ask the ranch lady to help me-“ you turn around, but the players at the poker table have been replaced a few times by now. “I need some help moving my hives into the shed for the storm, and I thought I’d find some extra hands around here. You distracted me, shame on you.”

“oh, do forgive me- how about I make it up to you?”

The offer makes you swallow and push away cheeky replies to that innocent offer, raising an eyebrow him instead. “How so?”

He holds up his hands. “I can help. you wanna do it right now or tomorrow? I thought I smelled rain on the way over, it’s probably a good idea to get it done immediately.”

You study his hands- his skeleton hands, attached to skeleton arms that have no muscle whatsoever attached to them- and quirk a grin. “You? Mr Bone man? You think you have what it takes to lift 100 pounds of honey and wood?”

“are you challenging me?” His eyelights glint, and he straightens up and saunters toward the door. “I’ll show you. five bucks says I can move your hives in five minutes.”

“Five minutes- Sans there’s fifteen hives and it’s pitch black out there!” You hurry after him, incredulous but not about to give up a bet like that. 

“yeah, you’re right, I gotta think about my reputation- make it ten bucks.” His cheeky grin has you giggling as you unlock the truck and let him in.

“Fine, ten bucks if you move my hives in five minutes. I have to see this for myself.” 

******

You should have know he’d have a magic trick up his baggy sleeve. It takes him five minutes exactly to shift your heavy beehives into the shed, surrounding them with a blue glow of telekinetic magic one by one and moving them gently through the air. You’re there to help him land them as softly as possible, not wanting to disturb the bees any more than necessary, and when it’s done you smile and pull out a ten for him. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Thank you so much for your help, Sans.”

He waves you away, shaking his head. “nah, keep your money, I was only helping a friend. and I cheated, kinda. it was an unfair wager.”

You take his hand and press the bill into it, stepping back before he can give it back. “Oh shush, take it. I was always gonna pay whoever helped me for the service.”

“oh, you’re paying me for services now?” He waggled his browbones, and suddenly the chill that makes you shiver isn’t just from the wind that’s starting to pick up, blowing the scent of rain through the night air. 

You chat a little more as you take the long way through your gardens towards the truck, walking in the light of your phone’s flashlight. He stops to smell a few flowers, though most of them are closed at this time of night, and when you offer to drive him home, he waves you off. 

“I know a shortcut.” He taps his nose bridge, the sign of a secret, though it’s not a secret to you. “Save a dance for me for the weekend, ok? See you then.”

“Of course, Sans,” you say with a smile, and with a wave, he disappears into thin air. You fancy you can feel a tingle of magic in the air when he does that. “I’d save all my dances for you if you asked me...” you continue softly, turning on your heel and wandering inside, just in time for the pitter-patter of rain on the roof to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok NOW plot can happen


	5. all my favourite people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn’t be a good old country story without a hoedown!

There’s the smell of more rain in the air and the static of a storm approaching, and you breathe in the humid air as you try to wrestle the huge barrel of cider off the back of your truck. There’s laughter and music echoing from the barn you all gather in once a year to celebrate the harvest, and trucks line the field outside in crooked rows. Your cowboy boots sink into the mud and you’re hit by a wave of dismay at the feeling, knowing you’ll have to scrub them clean that night when the party is over. 

The barrel topples the other way and you shriek as you scramble to keep a hold of it, your heart tipping in terror at disaster that is about to happen, but it stabilises just in time as two familiar hands grip the other side. “I’ve got you!” Papyrus says cheerfully, helping you lower the heavy item into the cart you placed underneath. His sunny smile contrasts with the grey, overcast sky of the afternoon, and you can’t help but match it, eyes traveling up and down his lanky body. 

He’s dressed fabulously for the evening, bright red fringed shirt with equally bright blue cacti splashed across it, as well as smart red trousers and shiny cowboy boots. On anyone else it would look ridiculous, like Marty McFly as Clint Eastwood, but on Papyrus the garish colours are perfect. Maybe you’re just biased.

“Thanks, Papyrus!” you shake his hand firmly in greeting, reluctant to let go once you have it. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“I do, don’t I?” He strikes a pose while still gripping your hand, and you giggle at his peacocking, cheeks warm. “You look very pretty too! Like a film star!”

“I’m actually channeling one, you know. Dale Evans, western actress from the 40s.” You swish your pale pink skirt for him and toss your curled hair, grinning. Nothing you’re wearing is time period accurate but it’s pretty and looks the part. You spent way too long on the embroidered appliqué roses for it to go unappreciated. “I hope you brought your dancing shoes! I expect at least three dances from you!”

“Then I will give you five!” He taps his feet in his smart cowboy boots and gives you a charming grin. 

“Save some for everyone else, dancing queen.” Sans strolls up behind you, giving you a once over and whistling appreciatively- and inexplicably, as he doesn’t have the lips to whistle with. “Well damn, girl! You trying to outshine the whole town? You look like those blown roses you sell out of every week.”

You can’t help how red your cheeks turn at his compliment. Pink roses are a town favourite and also one of yours. He’s comparing you to a flower... 

“Oh look what you’ve done, Sans, she’s changing colour! Is that bad or good?” 

Sans chuckles and rests his arm on your shoulder, although he has to reach a bit, since you’re still taller than him. “I think it’s good, hey, hun?” He waggles his browbones at you, grinning incorrigibly at you. 

You’re going to combust if you let him flirt any more, so you push him away and grab the handle of your cart to drag the barrel is cider inside. He follows, snickering while Papyrus tells him off for embarrassing you. 

Inside the barn, music is pounding from the speakers and almost the whole town is milling about in delightful chaos. The band is setting up in the corner, and tables line the walls, laden with every kind of food you could possibly imagine. You tug along your cart of cider, and attempt to lift it up before a familiar blue glow surrounds it and it floats out of your hands, settling onto a space on the table. Grinning your thanks at Sans, who gives you a cheeky salute, you assemble the cups next to it and leave the cart under the table, before breaking away to mingle.

It’s easy to see how diverse your little country town is when everyone is packed in like this. Most of your neighbours are human farmers, from your favourite tanned, muscled lesbians and their children to the many little Asian families whose greenhouses cover miles of land. Old men who raise cattle and their wives, dozens of children who proudly brag about their first crops to whoever will listen, teenagers who either look totally out of place, dreaming of bright lights and bustling cities, or the very picture of happy country kids in their boots and strong arms and freckled faces. 

And then there are the monsters who craved a quiet country life after the busyness of the city and the orientation camps. Animal-types who grow every vegetable imaginable, some spliced with Underground plants, which creates the weirdest and wackiest produce. Whimsums whose work consist of floating around other people’s farms and scaring off pests, despite their own timid nature, or some who are trying their own hands at growing things. There’s a few odd ones who you haven’t gotten to know yet- a talking snowflake, a tiny volcano, a jelly-like mass who wiggles to communicate. They all have their jobs, either working at the few shops in town or out on the sprawling farms. 

It’s fun, seeing so many different types of people. But no one fascinates you more than the skeletons. There’s no way you can consider them ‘bringers of death’ or any such idiocy you’ve heard before, when they’re so charming and sweet. And good-looking. You can’t forget that.

Someone yells out to make room for dancing, and the floor begins to clear while hands are offered and taken. You’re taking a swiftly held-out skeletal hand before you even know who it is, and Papyrus pulls you out onto the dancefloor with a wide smile. This is the Harvest Moon Ball, the best party of the year, and you’re going to enjoy yourself immensely. A chord is struck up and the music is switched to the live band, and you fall into a lively dance to start the night off.

******

Your feet hurt after the first few dances, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. Papyrus is the most energetic dance partner you’ve ever known, and even if he’s forgotten some of the steps, dancing with him is so much fun. He twirls and stomps with the best of them and a lot of the time, you end up being dipped even when there’s no call for it in the dance.

After a bit of dinner and a drink of cider- where Sans is standing at the barrel and is very slowly getting himself drunk as he always does- you’re approached by a few others for a dance, and you take a whirl with a farmers son who doesn’t know any of the steps and spends the whole time staring at your chest. Then a Whimsum who you very happily whirl around gently in the air, and a girl with a grip of iron and wild curls, who talks to you about cacti the whole time. You like her best of the humans, but no one can grab your interest like Papyrus. He spends a few dances with some little kids, teaching them some steps, and then with a teenage girl who is very obviously trying to rebel against her parents, and when you end up in each other’s arms again, you’re both sighing with relief. 

Eventually, after a few more dances Sans cuts in. Despite his lazy attitude, he can really cut a rug when he’s had a bit to drink. He twirls you away from Papyrus and joins the lineup, a new tune starting up that has him hopping on the spot like a dashboard toy. You’re already giggling, a little tipsy and hyped up and sweating like a pig, but you’re having so much fun. The jaunty little song has a few racy lyrics that Sans songs along to, winking at you with the cheekiest look, and now you have both adrenaline and the flusters coursing through your veins. Step, step, twirl, step, step, clap... the music gets faster and faster and Sans keeps up, even faster than you, and pulling you along the floor as you just dissolve into merry laughter.

Thank goodness the next one is slow. The one quick song obviously took it out of your partner, and you’re both very grateful to latch onto each other and do nothing more than sway. You have a chance to catch your breath and examine your crush’s outfit, raising an eyebrow at the simple flannel buttoned up to his neck. There’s a shiny sheriffs button pinned on and you touch it idly. “At least you kept with the western theme. Are you letting Pap take the spotlight cause you know you’ll blow them all out of the water? I know you can scrub up good when you want to...”

“Ya caught me.” He shrugged, leaning in as if he were telling you a secret. “Really I couldn’t be bothered getting a fancy outfit tailored for my short ass. But thanks for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Heh, well. You called me a rose before. It’s payback.” You grin and tap the badge. “Sheriff Sans, though?”

“Hey, I’d be great law enforcement. Why, can’t imagine me arresting you? I charge you with the crime of being too damn pretty.” He’s giving you a teasing smirk, hand firm in the small of your back and pulling you closer.

You can definitely imagine him arresting you. That’s not something you need running through your head when you’re pressed up against him. “No more cider for you, ya flirt,” you joke, poking his chest. “Makes you way too playful for polite company.”

“Then why don’t we escape polite company for a minute?” Sans gestured towards the barn doors.

He’s suggesting you... pair off? Go for a walk? A roll in the hay maybe? Ok, that last one was a bit too much. You take a deep breath and nod, smiling, though your cheeks are burning like anything. “Think we can see the stars?”

“If that storm hasn’t come yet, maybe...” he takes your hand and leads you across the dancefloor, and out of the doors into the humid air of the night. There’s already a few couples off in the distance, making use of the gazebos scattered through the fields, or gathered by their trucks. Unfortunately there are no stars to be seen except a faint smattering between a gap in the heavy clouds. Still, Sans stops and stares, still holding your hand gently in his delicate, bony one. His eyelights are luminous in his sockets, and you watch him with a pattering heart, wishing you had the courage to kiss that cheek. 

“Those were the first thing I wanted to see, when we got out,” he remarks, sounding distant. The window of stars disappears, and there’s a feeling of static in the air, a heaviness that settles over your skin. You barely notice when you’re listening to Sans. “Stars. I’d read books on ‘em, studied pictures... but nothin’ prepared me for the real thing. It was... magical, you know?”

“Yeah...” you hum, squeezing his hand. He turns to face you with an easy grin, though he blushes when he sees that you’re still holding hands. Neither of you want to let go.

“Listen, I-“ he starts, looking sheepish, but you’re interrupted by a loud, long, angry grumble of thunder, and it quickly starts to rain like it’s been threatening to all week. You barely manage to escape being drenched, dragging the skeleton back to the barn with you, while the people outside either get into their cars or rush inside screaming. 

The music and laughter is barely interrupted for a moment, before starting back up, and you turn to Sans, patting off any stray raindrops from your clothes. “Damn, it’s about time! Anyway, what were you saying?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets now as he surveys the crowd of dancing people. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Was gonna suggest we go for a walk, but I guess I kinda got washed out.”

You chuckle and nod, and wander to the tables, getting another bite to eat and trying to quash the disappointment. You really thought he was going to ask you out.

******

The storm is still going strong when most of the town have left, and you’ve volunteered to help clean up. It’s nearly two in the morning before the hosts send you away, and you feel like your entire body is drooping. Wrestling your now-empty barrel onto the cart, you gaze in dismay out the doors at the field of mud you’ll have to wade through.

Or maybe not. A moment later, two sets of arms encircle you, and Papyrus holds an umbrella over your head with a cheery smile despite the late hour. Sans teleports you directly to your truck, and they help load it up in the pouring rain, and then insist on riding with you to your place for your safety in this wild weather. You love your friends for their selfless spirits, those sweet boys.

The radio is pretty bad thanks to the weather, but one station comes through a little less fuzzy than the rest, and singing keeps you awake as you crawl along the muddy roads towards home.

“Not everybody's gonna find clarity  
In a back porch sittin' kind of therapy  
With a little bit of wine, John Prine, and Camel Blues, oh no  
Not everybody leaves well enough alone  
Stays out of business that ain't their own  
But all my favorite people do,” you sing, and nudge Sans next to you, who’s trying to sing along while napping on your shoulder. Papyrus grins at you over his head as he tries to follow the words.

“Well, I don't know about them, but I know about us  
It is what it is and we love who we love  
Not everybody gets what we're going through  
But all my favorite people do  
Yeah, all my favorite people-“

You stop and turn down the radio, squinting as you pull up in your driveway. It’s pretty impossible to see anything in the blackness of the storm, but something isn’t right. Everything looks weirdly out of shape. But there’s nothing to see, just your greenhouse gleaming in the yard and your shed where all your bees are safely hidden away, thanks to Sans, and-

A great flash of lightening lights up the world for a moment, and Papyrus gasps. Sans sits up, wide awake in an instant, and another flash confirms the truth of what you’re seeing. You feel your body sag and your jaw drop, heart pounding as you take it in.

Take in the giant tree lying in the middle of your house, the roof smashed in and crumpled like foil underneath. Your family home, destroyed by a blown over tree. And your eyes fill with tears of horror, as Sans pulls you into his arms and tries to comfort you, Papyrus speaking soothingly over your head as you try to make sense of anything right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long lol but I guess I wanted to figure out that reveal. Course I rushed it but *shrugs*
> 
> “All My Favourite People” by Maren Morris is the only ‘country’ song I’ll allow on my playlist and I pretty much listened to it exclusively for this chapter.
> 
> What do we think is the next step in this story? What tropes am I falling into this time ^^


	6. true friends are born for times of distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clean up commences. Your friends are amazing.

The next few hours pass in a haze. You’re numb, unable to pull yourself away from the vision of your house, the place where you had made such a beautiful home, the place where you felt so safe, such a wreck of wood and tile in the pouring rain. You vaguely register Sans and Papyrus trying to comfort you, before they realise you’ve stopped crying and you’re in shock. It doesn’t take them long to decide to take you home with them.

You let Sans pull you out of your seat, moving you along the three-seater bench so that he can take over driving. Papyrus winds his arms around you as Sans pulls away from the destruction and drives back onto the muddy road. You rest against the taller skeleton’s chest, letting him stroke your damp hair, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you grip his shirt tightly.

You zone out, somehow trudging through a muddy yard and finding yourself tucked into a bed that isn’t yours. Nothing really sticks, your eyes drooping as you listen to the boys whispering, and then later on muffled music playing somewhere beyond the door of the room you’re staying in. And soon enough, you’re asleep, and Sans and Papyrus are watching you worriedly from the doorway, wondering what their next moves are going to be.

******

The room is bright when you wake up, feeling damp and gross and grumpy. Sitting up, you take a moment to look around, realising you’re not at home. And that it’s midday, going by the sunlight streaming in the windows, and you’re still in your outfit from the night before. You’re confused until you see your muddy boots at the side of the bed.

Oh.

That’s right.

The memory of what your house looked like in that flash of lightening, sharp and twisted and most definitely crushed, floods your mind, and you gasp and start to cry unexpectedly. You can’t help it. As you bury your face in your hands and sob like a child, the door creaks open and you feel a weight on the bed, a smooth hand on your shoulder as you’re pulled into someone’s arms.

“You’re going to be alright,” Sans’ voice hums soothingly, and you cry into his chest, your face pressed against the rough flannel he’s wearing, starting to soak it. He just strokes your head and holds you as long as you need him to, murmuring comforting things while you cry. 

When you’re exhausted, you groan and pull back, wiping your face, knowing you look puffy and disgusting, your makeup smudged and your eyes all red. Shame blossoms in your chest, anxiety squeezing your heart. You don’t want Sans to see you like this, shattering the pretty, airy image you’d been carefully cultivating, flower fairy turned blubbering mess in front of your crush. “S-sorry...” you mutter, sniffing and trying to run your fingers through your hair, catching on tangles. “I should... go home, I guess, but-“

“Are you kidding? Your home got destroyed, you’re allowed to be upset, babe...” his voice is so soft and sweet that you almost start crying again. As you start tearing up, your lips trembling, he turns your face to look at him, and his smile makes butterflies explode inside you, lighting up what your tears had been stamping down. You want to kiss him. Logically, you know it’s because you’re feeling vulnerable right now and he’s being so kind, but the feeling is so strong that you almost start leaning in. Maybe he realises it too, because he tilts his head away and hugs you again, rubbing your back. You tuck your face against his neck- or vertebrae, really- and hold onto him tightly, trying to relax. 

You stay like that for a while, until your stomach grumbles loudly, making Sans jump in surprise. He laughs, pulling away and getting up, holding out his hand for you. “Pap made breakfast before he left this mornin, it’s warming on the stove. You probably should eat something. You want coffee?”

“Yeah... thanks.” You let him pull you up, squeezing his hand with a deep breath. His answering grin makes your stomach churn with more than hunger, and you smooth your slept-in clothes down self-consciously. “Where’s Papyrus?”

“Went into town to run some errands,” Sans hummed casually, leading you into the kitchen, where you can see a pan on the stove with eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms. It smells delicious and suddenly you’re so hungry that you might cry if you don’t eat right this second. 

Sans makes you toast and coffee, and you devour the whole thing like a starving woman. Crying is hungry work, and when your plate and mug are empty, your mind is finally clear enough to register that a familiar bouquet of flowers is sitting in a vase in the middle of the table, looking a little droopy now, as is expected when it’s been at least a week since you cut them. You’re surprised they lasted so long, but the boys are farmers after all. They know how to keep plants alive. It makes you smile to see them keeping evidence of your affection for them around their home, even if they don’t know how far that affection goes. Glancing around, you see a separate vase with your daffodil in it, the ingredients for its longevity scribbled on a piece of paper next to it. Your cheeks warm at the sight of it.

******

Sans allows you to follow him around while he does his chores, and you’re glad he does. There’s some endearing about watching him toss feed to the chickens, petting and scratching them like you would a cat. They’re so friendly that they eat right out of your hand when you have a turn, and you laugh as their pecking tickles your hand.

He waters and weeds the produce, and takes the ripest of the lot to the shed to box up. You wonder how the vegetables and fruit stay so healthy and perfect while sitting in crates for a few days, but it’s no more surprising than the knowledge that their produce is the ripest, juiciest and more loved at the markets, every single weekend. There must be something in the water, or the earth.

You’re a sweaty, dirty mess when you’re finished helping him. He offers you the bathroom, and all the privacy you want. But you really want to go home, or to what’s left of it, and try and salvage what you can. And find some clothes that aren’t hoedown chic or very kindly offered sweaters. Sans seems hesitant to take you home, though, presumably because of your reaction last night. But you manage to convince him, and after a needed shower, you head off in your truck with Sans tagging along.

You’re not expecting to see what you see when you get there.

The property is surrounded by cars and trucks and your yard has been swarmed by neighbours and townspeople. The wreckage of your house is just as horrifying in daylight as it was last night, but now there are also many of your belongings stacked in the front yard, and ropes are slung around the offending tree that had crashed through your roof, while multiple people try to work out how to pull it off. And right in the middle of it all is Papyrus, pointing and yelling and directing everyone around your home. One moment he’s talking with two grizzled farmers, one with a huge chainsaw and the other holding the rope that’s sling around the tree. The next, he’s rushing to help carry out your partially crushed dresser and placing it carefully on the lawn, high-fiving the others who carried it with him.

“Yeah, when I said he was running errands, I meant he was rustling up a few hands to help you out,” Sans shrugged, giving you a smile as you turned your tear-stained face to stare at him. 

You’re about to start crying again, but this time out of gratitude. Never have you known anyone as generous and sweet as Sans and Papyrus- look at everything they’ve done for you! Just because you’re a friend! Almost falling out of you truck in your eagerness to get out, you stumble into the yard just as Papyrus turns and sees you. Before he can say a word, you’ve thrown your arms around him and your tears are soaking his overalls, and he’s patting your back softly. 

“Oh, human, I’m so dirty, you don’t want splinters all over you!” he exclaims, but you can feel his chuckle vibrate through you as you only hug him tighter. The splinters don’t matter, you’re just so grateful to have an amazing friend like him. “Did you think we wouldn’t help you out of a pickle like this?”

“I didn’t expect you to bring the whole town here to help,” you laugh, looking up at him and wishing you could jump up and kiss his cheekbone. “You’re amazing!”

“Of course, my dear, I am the Great Papyrus after all!” he preens under your praise, but you can see how satisfied he really is by your gratitude. 

While the strongest of those helping try to decide whether to pull the tree off in one piece or chainsaw it into smaller pieces, you decide to go and help with the procession of people retrieving your things from the house. Picking your way through the disaster zone with Papyrus following closely, you duck through the collapsed doorway into the living room and let out a dismayed sound at the plaster and wood that mars the beautiful antique furniture that came with the house. You’ll have to wait until the tree is removed to get any of this out and it’s going to cost a fortune to get clean... and those vases you brought from your mother’s house are smashed beyond repair, no glue could save them now...

“Oh. My. Stars!”

You turn to see what has Papyrus so excited, and you realise he’s staring at his own paintings. Paintings you’ve been secretly buying and hanging up all over your house for ages, most of which are in this room. They’re all coated with a layer of dirt from the accident, but Papyrus’ eyelights are shining, and his cheekbones are glowing. 

“It was you! You bought my art! And you like it enough to put it in your house- why did you never tell me?” 

“I didn’t wanna make a big deal about it... I like to support local artists and especially my friends...” you smile at him, taking one of the paintings down from the wall and blowing the dirt off it. It’s a beautiful sunrise over fields of sunflowers, not a scene you think is from around here, and it always cheers you up to look at it. “You’re seriously talented, Papyrus. I love all of your art.”

“Really?” He looks like you’ve just told him he’s won tickets to see Mettaton in Paris. “Oh gosh... thank you... that means so much to me...” he draws you into his arms and pecks your cheek, nuzzling you sweetly, and you hold your breath as your face heats up and your heart starts to hammer in nervous delight. It’s a grateful reaction, you remind yourself, just like your bear hug from before... but it feels so good. It feels like your feelings could be returned if you ever got up the courage to say them put loud... like he wouldn’t pull away if you turned your face and pressed your lips to those pretty white teeth...

He lets you go before you have a chance to embarrass yourself, brushing himself down self-consciously, and you forbid him from apologising. The moment is over, and you grab all of his paintings from the walls and bring them back outside with you to save.

******

It takes hours to see any progress on the house. Papyrus insists you sit in the shade with Sans and rest, and so you do, sipping on homemade lemonade brought by another farmer who’s come to help. You feel a bit delirious from the confusion of emotions from the last 24 hours, and it helps that Sans is there to lend his shoulder for you to rest on.

The tree is chopped down, pulled off, and discarded. It’ll make great firewood for winter, and you let everyone know that they’re welcome to take as much wood as they want. Then, as the sunlight starts to dim, a giant tarp is pulled over the roof to protect the insides from further weather damage. Most of your important things are set out for you to collect, and you’re fully prepared to book a room at the one hotel in town until Sans asks if you’re ready to come home with them. And it suddenly feels like the most natural thing in the world to say yes, you are.

They load your belongings into both trucks, and you bid farewell to the lovely people who put so much effort into helping you out. And when you follow the skeletons home along the darkening roads, you’re smiling widely, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line and let me know your thoughts, friends <3


End file.
